Loyalty

Anxiety couldn't begin to describe what Leonardo felt right now.

He wanted to throw up. At the same time, he doubted even that would make him feel better. He didn't know how long he had spent in this place, but in whatever amount of time that had been, things had only seemed to spiral downward.

Savannah was alive, but with a gun to her head. Both she and Leo were unable to move. And now there was a possibility Oliver was on her way.

Leonardo also definitely considered the possibility that if Oliver were to leave the apartment, so would Noah.

He would have liked to believe this could be a good thing. His friends to his rescue. Needless to say, that wasn't the case, and to make matters worse, over the phone Wilfred had warned Oliver not to bring in the authorities, otherwise someone might meet the unwanted end of a gun. Leonardo knew the power fear had on him, the limitless reach of what he would do in this moment to ensure the safety of the ones he cared about.

What scared him was that Oliver probably shared that characteristic. That she probably would show up here, without the authorities, to sacrifice herself to save the life of the girl Leonardo loved, if not Leo himself.

As it turned out, William had quite a steady hand. From the moment he had first accepted the weapon from Wilfred and aimed it at Savannah, he hadn't moved. Blank-faced, he kept his gaze trained solely and obediently on his target. There appeared to be nothing else in vision. Nothing else on his mind, save this one task his father had assigned him.

"I don't have any loyalty to my dad, I don't owe him any favors..."

Nothing but a load of crap.

"Besides, we're friends, aren't we, Leo?"

Perhaps what hurt most about those words was not just that they had successfully deceived him, but simply how badly Leo had wished they could have been true. William had seemed so kind, and thoughtful, and fun, and understanding—a great actor, through and through. It didn't matter to Leo if William were in it for money, or if he felt obligated because he was his father's son.

Leonardo could never forgive him.

Holding grudges was agonizing, self-destructive at times, but he swore he would hold this one for as long as he lived.

Even if it were all he could do, even if fueling whatever shame William was experiencing were the only thing he could do, Leonardo would take it over nothing.

He just needed all this to be over. He needed things to end with no blood shed—at least not anyone's but his own.

The wait that followed the phone call just about killed him inside.

Leo wasn't sure what he was more afraid of—Oliver showing up, or her not showing up. The same with Noah.

No, he knew for sure he didn't want Noah involved in this. But Leo had already accepted that if Oliver were to come here then so would he.

The mere thought of Noah being here, too.

Leo really felt he was dying.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed after Wilfred hung up on Oliver. Hours, minutes...the concept of time became something foreign to him. But evidently, some passed.

There was a cry from somewhere outside the building.

"Leonardo!!!"

Oliver.

Leo's heart dropped to his stomach. No. Please, no.

"Leo!!"

Noah's voice.

"Someone's with him. Jared, do you have your gun with you?"

"Yeah."

"Don't!" Leo cried out instinctively. "She's not with the authorities, don't shoot him, please!!"

"Authorities or not," Wilfred said sternly, "she came with someone, and it would foolish of us not to take caution. Let's hope for your sake it's just the two of them."

Seconds later there was a powerful knock at the door—one of the doors, that is, the one Wilfred had come from earlier.

"It's open," the man called out, "but do be courteous, won't you?"

Without a moment's hesitation, the door swung open violently and Oliver burst into the room.

She had brought a weapon of her own. A gun.

Wherever she had gotten one, whether she had kept one at her apartment all this time, or if she had made a quick stop on the way here, it didn't matter, nor did it concern Leo. What concerned him was that Oliver had one right here, and in this moment, she was holding it up, as if fully prepared to use it.

"I'd advise you take a look around before you act irrationally." Wilfred stared emotionlessly at the blonde, whose arms were clearly trembling in panic. "You couldn't have forgotten what I told you over the phone that quickly, could you?"

For a second, it appeared as though she had forgotten. But a single breath was taken, a gaze was shifted, and Oliver saw Leo, fastened limbs, helpless.

Savannah, on another side of the room, just as helpless, held at gunpoint.

Noah had stumbled into the building behind Oliver at this point, but he was unarmed. His feet came to an abrupt stopped, eyes ahead of him and already having taken in the whole room.

"Oliver, don't do anything."

The blonde had her weapon aimed at Wilfred. Jared, the man Wilfred had addressed not long ago, had his weapon aimed at Oliver. And then there was William, who hadn't moved his own.

"It's up to you, really," Wilfred said, not breaking eye contact with the girl. "You could shoot me if you wanted to, and if you think you're a good shot even with a broken arm or whatever you've got there, by all means, take your shot. But the second your gun goes off, so will ours. Not much a doctor can do with a bullet shot directly into the skull. I should say, good luck getting her to one in the first place. You were confident enough to come here armed, though, so maybe I don't know everything you're capable of, blue blood."

The 'broken' arm wasn't the issue here. The issue was Oliver's rib, which actually had been broken. The stress and internal pressure and all the physical activity that the girl unarguably should not have been doing right now—it had the same effect as when Oliver had laughed too hard at Noah's joke. Except much worse.

Her breathing faltered. With the sensation of her chest compressed, Oliver instinctively tossed the gun out of her own reach and threw her hand over her heart as she fell to her knees. Noah cried out her name suddenly. One arm reached for the girl—his eyes, however, moved towards the weapon.

There was the sound of gunshot. But it was at the ground.

A warning shot, it appeared, having been fired from William's gun no more than a foot from Savannah's body.

Noah stopped. A desperate whisper fearfully left his mouth. "Oliver, just breathe deeply, you have to breathe."

His efforts to stay calm were so obviously fake to Leo. Noah was scared, too. But he must have known screaming Leo's name or demanding Wilfred to release his friends wasn't going to solve anything.

He couldn't solve anything dead, either, so he stayed still.

"Jared, give me your gun."

At the man's order, Jared handed the weapon over to Wilfred, who took a firm hold of it before pointing the barrel of the gun towards Noah.

"You are?" He asked. In disbelief, Noah narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Noah Peterson."

"Tell me what makes you so special, Noah Peterson."

It was so clearly a mocking tone of voice, but Noah was never one to be mocked.

"Nothing much," he soon said. "Just a working adult taking a vacation in Indianapolis. It was going okay for the most part—well, except my girlfriend got hit by a car, and now my best friend and his girlfriend are being held hostage. So not the most fun vacation anymore."

"On vacation, is that it?" Wilfred nodded slowly. "You're from Seattle, correct?"

"Mm."

"Is it safe for me to assume you were one of the boys the blue blood attached herself to?"

"The 'blue blood' has a name."

"Yes, but you don't." His face as blank as ever, Wilfred pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Not one significant to me, anyhow. Meaning I could kill you now without it affecting me. My son could do the same. Now that the people we wanted are here, neither of you have any purpose to me."

At the mention of Wilfred's son, Noah's gaze traveled over to William and stuck there. "You're him," he voiced. "William, was it?"

No reply.

"I hope the guilt of betraying Leonardo kills you faster than a gunshot can kill me."

He wasn't looking at Noah. But that didn't stop the latter from talking.

"I don't know you enough to care what your reasons are," he continued. "If I die here, you can bet on your own pitiful life I'll come back to haunt you for what you've done."

Leo hated it. He hated these words Noah was speaking so confidently, as if certain, or even accepting, that he would die here.

Oliver looked to have stabilized her breathing to a scarce but manageable degree; however this didn't mean much in their current situation. She was just helpless as her friends.

Helpless. Hopeless.

Leo had experienced these feelings before but nothing quite as devastating as this.

At this point he had abandoned his will to speak. To cry out anymore. Giving in to defeat, accepting his fate just as Noah had seemingly accepted that he might not walk out of this building alive.

Acceptance was brutal but alas he embraced it.

Softly, under his breath, he whispered what he believed could be his last 'I love you' to Savannah.

In silent, internal echoes.

I had wanted to spend forever with you. I had wanted to give back everything you had given me. I had wanted to spend forever with you. I had wanted to spend forever.

Forever wasn't meant to be this short.

Noises and activities outside his head ceased to reach him for some time. Leo could only focus on how heavy his tears had become. He didn't register what he was hearing.

Sirens. Police sirens.

In the beat of a heart William had swung his weapon over to his father and fired it directly at his leg—thanks to the relatively short distance he was able to hit his target without a problem. And that single shot caused the man's knees to buckle and bring him to the ground, and thus his weapon fell from his hand in the process.

The other men were so horribly taken aback by the sight of it, they didn't react quickly enough and within seconds William had retrieved the gun Wilfred had dropped.

"Come out of the building with your weapons down and your hands behind your head!!"

"I suggest you go."

William's words were directed at the three men. Not much later, he turned solemnly towards his father, only to stare with unreadable eyes at the man wallowing in pain and clutching his leg.

"I could have shot your skull. Be grateful you've got such a son like me."